Stone Heart
by Spark17
Summary: Sherlock overhears a conversation between John and his sister.


Sherlock opened the door to his Baker Street flat and walked up the stairs. He opened his mouth to call out to John but stopped when he heard raised voices coming from the direction of John's bedroom.

_Did John have a visitor? _

Sherlock stepped carefully up the stairs and stood outside John's room.

The female voice was coming from John's mobile that he had placed on his dresser. John paced back and forth in his small room. He was running his hands through his hair in agitation as the voice on the phone got louder.

"I can't believe what a selfish bastard you are. The really sad thing is that you're not even aware of it. Come down here, do whatever the old man wants to do and just deal with it."

"Harry, I live three hours away! I can't just pop in whenever I want." John snapped at his sister. "And what business is it of yours when and if I talk to Dad? It's not like you've been a model daughter."

"I _care_ because I have to listen to him whine whenever you don't call for a couple of weeks."

John let out a long sigh at the phone on the dresser. "I'm dealing with a lot of things right now. You just don't understand. I've...I've only been back a couple of months and I'm having trouble adjusting. I just can't seem to get my footing. I'm trying but things just seem so mixed up right now."

Sherlock could hear the pleading in John's voice as he spoke to his sister.

"Oh, please!" Harry exclaimed. "I hope you're not trying to throw that PTSD crap at me. We've all got things were dealing with. Just get over it."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes in anger as he saw John's stricken face at his sister's insensitive comments. John had stopped pacing and was sitting on his bed with his head in his hands.

"You know, this is just like you." Harry's voice rose up again from the phone's speaker. " You're wrapped up in your own little world and want everyone to pay attention to you. To pity you."

"Harry, I..."

"I ask you to do one little thing," Harry continued, "and you act like it's this terrible burden."

"Harry, please! I never said it was a burden, I just..."

"I don't know why I even bother with you anymore. Get your head out of your ass and do something for your family. You are worthless, John, totally worthless."

Sherlock could hear the click of the phone as Harry hung up.

John sat silent on the bed. Sherlock could see from his spot in the hallway that John was shaking with both pain and betrayal. He had covered his face with his hands and his breath hitched out of him in small gasps.

Sherlock and Mycroft had had their share of rows as siblings. But he knew deep down from a place he would never admit existed that all of Mycroft's prying came from a place of caring and love. Sure, he also needed to make sure that Sherlock didn't singlehandedly bring down Parliament but Sherlock knew that Mycroft genuinely cared for him.

But this, this was just venom. Hateful words spewed from a woman who just hated herself.

"She's wrong." Sherlock said, finally making his presence known.

John looked up quickly at the sudden noise. He jumped off the bed, quickly wiped his eyes, and strode across the room to stuff the phone in his pocket.

"Sherlock, when did you...? I didn't know you were back. How was Lestrade? Any new cases?

"She's wrong." Sherlock said again.

John looked at Sherlock briefly and then dropped his eyes.

"And if she's not..." John said in a small voice.

"Then you're as much of an idiot as she is."

John looked up at Sherlock sharply.

"Look, let's be honest here. We both know that you're the clever one. You're the brilliant consulting detective. I just tag along to hold your coat and keep people from hitting you with sharp objects. I'm just a washed up Army veteran with nightmares and a small pension and not much else. That skull down there could do just as much good as I am."

"I don't have the skull anymore. Mrs. Hudson made me put it in the bin."

"Isn't that illegal?

"It wasn't our bin."

John let out a weary sigh and went to sit on the bed again.

"John, I cannot do my job without you anymore. It's bloody annoying but it's true." John smiled. "I need my blogger..my colleague..my _friend_. I need your medical knowledge. I need your spirit of adventure, and...I need your companionship. I never realized what an ass I was until I saw what a real human being was like." Sherlock smiled with a toothy grin.

"I need you here. I would be worthless without you."

John stared into the blue-green eyes of the greatest living detective and knew instantly that he was telling the absolute truth.

"So do we have a case?" John asked.

"Oh yes!" Sherlock answered giddily. "Three prostitutes were found murdered yesterday at the Cower-Bleakly house. They were all wearing masks and have a number 8 carved into their skin."

"Christmas has come early, then? "John joked

"Oh, this is much better than Christmas, John. This is like Easter before the Christians totally ruined it." Sherlock exclaimed happily.

"Are you ready to go, Doctor Watson?" Sherlock asked as they made their way downstairs.

"Ready as always, Consulting Detective Holmes."

Sherlock handed John his coat and they both walked out the door.


End file.
